there's a blue box by the impala (i don't know where mars is)
by Everyone's a Mortal
Summary: Castiel stared at the six of them. "I'm in charge." He said. "Not Dean, or Sherlock or the Doctor. Understand? Me. I'm older than ALL of you" -he gave the Doctor a serious look- "ALL, of you." / SuperWhoLock. A work in progress.
1. Chapter 1

**so, this is just another SuperWhoLock fanfic. I don't exactly know where I'm going with this, but please bear with me. I don't own _Supernatural_, or any of the characters I'm to put in use: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, or the angel Castiel. **

**I also do not own the _Sherlock_ television show or books, nor any of the characters featured in this fic: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mary Watson, Mycroft, or any other character.**

**I do not own any characters from the BBC show _Doctor Who,_ characters such as: The Doctor, Rose Tyler, Martha Jones, Donna Noble, Wilf, Jack Harkness or Mickey Smith.**

**Before I begin this fanfiction, there are some things to KEEP IN MIND: This is set before Ten's regeneration, before Castiel begins to lose his grace.**

**Enjoy everyone! I don't own.**

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><p><em><strong>"<strong>We know a little about a lot of things; just enough to make us dangerous."_

_**~Dean Winchester.**_

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><p><span>there's a blue box by the impala (i don't know where mars is).<span>

by Everyone's a Mortal.

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><p>The giant gap in the wall bothered him. Castiel was standing by it, staring at Dean like the world depended on him. But then, he always looked at Dean that way.<p>

"What is it?" Sam asked. Through the hole, a busy street was visible. People bustled back and forth, minding their own business, not stopping for anyone.

"A rip through the fabric of the universes." Castiel said. He turned his attention back to the hole, his eyes running back and forth like if he stared at it long enough, it would close up into nothing. "Like when you two landed in that dimension where all this"-he waved his hands around-"was fake."

"And?" Dean asked. He was standing impatiently, his hands itching towards the gun around his waist.

"And we need to go close the gap. If it's left open for too long, it'll expand until both universes collide. That won't look good."

"Explosion?" Sam asked.

Castiel nodded.

"So, we cross?" Dean asked. "Just like that? No plan, no knowledge of what's on the other side, _nada?"_

"We have a plan," Castiel objected. "To close the gap."

"And how do we do that?"

Castiel looked up at the ceiling, exasperated. "By crossing to the other side and figuring out who opened the gap."

"How do we know it wasn't opened on this side?" Dean asked, his reluctance showing.

"I already checked. Nothing indicates that the hole was opened here. So we need to go there."

"Why us?" Sam asked. "Why not just you, or another angel?"

Castiel glared at him. "Because no one else is willing to go. Come on, I need you to" -he gave Dean a look- "I _need you _to do this. _Please._"

Dean drummed his fingers against this jeans.

Sam stared at him.

Finally, he sighed. "Let's get packing."

**. . .**

It was a long, complicated voicemail that Sam left Bobby before they left. The Impala was parked neatly in front of the hole.

"Waiting for our return?" Sam asked. The bag he was holding was packed full of fake IDs, guns, money. Anything but clothes, really.

Dean shook his head, saying nothing. He watched Castiel, until the angel turned. "Ready?" He asked. Dean nodded. Silently, he got into the car. "W-what are you doing?" Cas asked.

"Getting ready to leave," Dean said plainly.

"In the car?"

"I'm not leaving it behind. This is the love of my life, we're talking about here."

Castiel gave him a dark look, but seconds later he appeared in the backseat. Sam slid into the passenger seat. "When we cross, you might feel slightly woozy, or have the feeling of being highly intoxi-" Cas didn't get to finish, as Dean floored the gas pedal.

They shot through the hole.

**. . .**

Dean realized he hadn't thought it through half-way through their landing.

The impala jerked violently, feeling for asphalt that wasn't there. They freefell, until suddenly the ground was beneath them and Dean's forehead stung. He'd knocked his head against the steering wheel. "Sammy, you okay?"

He heard a muffled yes.

"Cas?"

"I'm fine." The angel was standing in front of the impala, which was spouting smoke. The two brothers got out of the car. Sam's nose was bleeding, but other than that he looked unharmed.

"Where are we?" Sam asked. People were yelling around them, but no one had seemed to notice their sudden arrival.

Castiel looked around. Finally, he said, "London. London, England."

_"What?"_ Dean asked.

"Didn't you hear me?"

"Oh, I heard you, all right. I'm not sure I want to _believe _you." Dean's voice was rising, and Castiel took a step forward.

"You said you'd help me."

"And we will," Sam interjected. "As soon as we get money."

"You _have _money."

Sam breathed out, "Not the right type. We need euros."

Castiel nodded, trying to hide his confusion. "Oh, of course. Where do we get that?"

The three of them took a look around, and then they realized they had no idea.

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><p><strong>so, depending on how many reviewsfollows this story gets, I might continue it. if so, you're most likely going to see the ****_Sherlock _show in the next chapter.**

**Remember to review and follow! **

**Sincerely,  
>Lyn.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two is up! I own nothing :)**

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><p><em>"I don't have friends; I've just got one."<br>**~Sherlock Holmes.**  
><em>

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><p><span>there's a blue box by the impala (i don't know where mars is).<span>

Chapter Two.

by Everyone's a Mortal.

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><p>The coffee shop was empty except for the three of them and two men in the corner. The owner of the place handed them their espressos and left. British accents screamed insults outside, but other than that the well-traveled road known as Baker Street was silent.<p>

"You think we'll meet... you know?" Dean asked Sam. His brother gave him a questioning glance. Dean rolled his eyes, "B-Bela. You think she's still kicking around here?"

Sam's face became thoughtful. "Oh. Maybe. I mean, anything could happen, right?"

Castiel took a sip of the caffeine in front of him and made a face. He cleared his throat. "Bela Talbot?"

"Yeah. You know her?"

Castiel shook his head. "Poor soul." He said.

The conversation ended there.

"So," Dean said, "Where do we get money around here?"

Sam sighed, "I don't know. Poker, maybe? I mean, I'm not sure if they even take euros here."

" 'Course they do, we're in Europe." Dean snorted.

Now it was Sam's turn to roll his eyes.

Castiel looked as if he was about to say something, when a man walked over. He was tall, wearing a black trenchcoat. The collar was turned up. His curly hair plastered his face and he wore a fake smile almost as good as Dean's. "Hello!" He said. Dean resisted the urge to puke at how _British _he sounded. "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation. You sound American."

"We are." Sam said, looking annoyed.

"Ah, right, really?" The man said. "Where are you from?"

"Kentucky." Sam said. At the same time, Dean almost shouted, "Kansas."

Sam gave the guy a sheepish grin. "We're from a little town called Kentucky, Kansas. Not even on the map."

"Ah, interesting. I'm Sherlock." The stranger extended an arm.

Dean nodded, ignoring the arm. "I'm... Andy. Andy Griffith. This is my brother, Sean, and this is... um... this is..."

"Castiel," the angel said, extending an arm. "I'm an angel of the-"

"He's an angel!" Dean interrupted, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips.

Sherlock pulled a curious face. "Oh? Who's angel?"

Sam smiled lightly. _"Andy's."_

Dean casually stepped on his brother's foot under the table. Sherlock smiled again, but didn't brush on the subject any more. "Well, that's interesting. Too bad you're lying."

Dean tensed. Castiel's hand flew to his blade and Sam's knee hit the table sharply. Another man, much shorter than Sherlock, raced over. "I'm, I'm so sorry. Is he bothering you? I'm sorry. I'm John. I'm his friend."

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Guardian?"

Sherlock glared.

"Caretaker."

"Yes, caretaker." Sherlock nodded. "He cares so I don't have to." John gave an exasperated sigh. "Would you care to visit my flat?" Sherlock asked.

Dean's hand carefully crawled towards his gun.

"If not," Sherlock said, "I've got the police on speed dial, and while they wait you can have a fight with a decorated war veteran and a seven degree black belt with a gun." He smiled: "Your choice."

Castiel stared at the two brothers before nodding slightly.

The three men got up.

Like the gentlemen he was, Sherlock payed.

**. . .**

"Where are you from?" Sherlock asked when they reached the apartment. An elderly lady had just left. She had asked if they wanted tea and John had kindly dismissed her. "And don't lie, you're terrible liars, I can see right through you, you know, every one of you."

"Oh yeah?" Dean asked. His tongue flicked inbetween his teeth. "What can you see?"

The shorter man, John, sighed. "Here we go again, damn it."

Sherlock stood: "You've been lying all your life, but you've never been good at it. Every time you lie something's off. That's because you've got a huge tell: your eyes. You blink a lot when you lie, your eyes sort of water up like you've lied one too many times and you tilt your head to the right, sometimes to the left. You haven't bought a new pair of shoes since you were at least in your twenties, that jacket you've got on is way older than you, judging from the tear on the side and the wear on the cuffs. You're a leader, or you were at one time. You used to be a father. You hunt, maybe ex military, judging from how on guard you are. You've seen something bad, judging from the clenching of your hands. Torture, perhaps? Oh, and you're a little bit in love." Sherlock blinked.

Dean's teeth clenched. "Oh yeah?" He said, "that's all a lie."

He restrained himself from tilting his head.

His eyes watered anyway.

"Who the hell are you?"

Sherlock sighed. "I'm Sherlock Holmes. And if you read much, you ignorant fool, you'd know I'm the greatest detective to ever live."

Dean blinked.

Castiel sighed. "He's not lying."

Sherlock Holmes tilted his head. "Of course not." He turned his attention to the angel. "You're definitely a war veteran. What was it, Vietnam? Afghanistan? Whatever it was, it scarred you more than the Liar over there. You're older than you look, somehow. You're a better hider than the Liar, but you can't hide the fact that you've also taken a liking to someone."

Castiel cleared his throat.

Sam pulled out his gun, and pointed it at Sherlock. The short man quickly pulled out his and pointed it at Sam. Dean pointed his gun at John. Castiel stared at his knife uselessly. "We're leaving, now." Sam said.

"What? Why? The party just started! You haven't even tried Mrs. Hudson's tea yet." Sherlock smiled.

"We'll catch the British-mobile some other place," Dean smiled back.

"You're not getting away." Sherlock said simply.

"And why not?" Dean tried to keep his patience.

"Because," Sherlock frowned. "You're my newest case."

Dean lost it.

**. . .**

He dropped his gun, pinned Sherlock against the wall and started throwing punches. Sherlock was doing something between a chuckle and a pant. John and Sam raced to pry the two men away from each other. Castiel stood quietly in a corner, taking a sip of the tea Mrs. Hudson had just brought up. "It's very good." He said.

"Oh, thank you, I put in a little more ginger." Mrs. Hudson said. Her eyes were on the four other men. "When will these boys grow up?" She asked out loud. Castiel shrugged, and gave the lady a look as if to say, _girl, you don't know the **half **of it._

With a sigh, Mrs. Hudson turned and shuffled downstairs.

Castiel continued watching, before remembering something very important.

Why they were here.

"Um," he said. "Dean? Sam? I think we should go now. We need to find whatever caused the rip in the fabric of time and space... are you listening to me?"

"A little busy, Cas!" Sam yelled out. With a large grunt, he managed to pry Dean away from Sam.

The older brother yelled out, "WE'RE NOT JUST SOME CASE YOU CAN PICK APART, DAMN IT."

Sherlock Holmes' eyebrows raised. He didn't say anything.

"Dean. Sam." Castiel said, walking up behind them, "We need to go." HE turned to the two other men. "Thank that nice lady for the tea." He said. He touched the Winchester's foreheads and the three men disappeared form sight.

The last thing they heard was Sherlock scream out a curse word.

**. . .**

The Impala was parked safely four blocks down, in an alley. Sam was about to get in the car when he realized Dean seemed to be having some technical difficulties. "What is this thing doing here?" He asked. He kicked the object; a big, blue box with words in the front that read **Public Police Call Box. **The box made a sound on the inside, an angry sounding yell. The door opened, suddenly.

A man stepped out, wearing reading glasses. His hair was wild, and he wore a trenchcoat (Dean wondered if that was a thing in England; did all tall guys wear trench coats? Did he have to buy Sam one? Would Cas have to take his off?) "Oi!" The man sounded, "Don't you have any manners? Don't damage things that aren't yours!"

He stepped out of the box, and a girl followed him. She had fiery red hair, and a charming frown. Dean smiled at her and she glared in return.

"Did you here me?" The guy said. "I said, don't touch things that aren't yours!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Would you mind moving the damn... whatever, so I can get outta here?" Dean huffed.

Trenchcoat man nodded, slowly. "Donna, stay out here and make sure they don't damage her." He said, before disappearing inside.

Dean turned to the lady. "What were you two doing in such a small box?"

The woman, Donna, gave him an amused smile. "It's bigger on the inside?"

Dean raised his eyebrows. Sam interrupted, "Why's he so, um, fond of that box?"

"Oh, that one's easy." Donna said. "The Doctor loves his box."

"The Doctor?" Castiel asked. He looked alert, all of a sudden. Both happy and sad at the same time. "As in, _the _Doctor?"

"That's the one. You know 'im?" Donna asked.

"Heard of him." Castiel returned.

"Who is he?" Dean asked.

Castiel shrugged. "I don't think even he knows, anymore."

All of a sudden, the box made a screeching noise, pleasant but slightly alarming. And then it disappeared, before moving again, behind the Impala. When it had fully materialized and the noise had stopped, Trenchcoat man stepped out of the box again.

Dean and Sam staggered backwards. "What is that thing?" Dean yelled out.

"Don't talk to her like that!" The Doctor said.

"That's the TARDIS." Donna smiled. "Travels through space and time."

"What, so you're aliens?" Sam asked.

Donna rolled her eyes, "Are you crazy? Do I look like an alien to you? _He's _the only alien on the block."

Dean choked on his spit. The Doctor grinned. "Two hearts and everything!"

"Prove it," Dean said.

Castiel intervened. "Dean, I don't think that's a good-"

"Step inside," The Doctor offered.

Dean moved forward, about to enter before the Doctor stuck out his hand. "Your gun, please."

"What?"

"Hand it over. I don't do weapons."

Dean slowly handed over his gun.

Sam followed.

When Castiel stepped forward, the Doctor sighed. "Suppose I can't make you do anything, can I, old friend?"

"No," Castiel said. "No, little brother, you can't."

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><p><strong>Okay, so the second chapter's up, and it seems things are expanding! This fic seems to be going places. If I can get a schedule down, I might update once every two weeks or once a week. Remember to leave reviews, though, as those serve to push my updates.<strong>

**Merry Christmas!**

**xoxoxo,**

**Lyn.**


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